Steph Swainston - No Present Like Time

“What are they?”

“Atropine. Extracted from belladonna root.”

“Deadly nightshade! For god’s sake-what are you carrying that for?” She returned them carefully.

“I always keep them there. Atropine is effective in treating scolopendium overdose. One tablet would counteract the toxin, although I’ve rarely been able to take it. Two tablets are lethal. They’re soluble and tasteless.”

Lightning made a decision. “I think I should accompany you, unless you fear I will slow you down. I’ll never murder but I will shoot to defend us.”

“Please,” I said gratefully. With Lightning to back me up, I felt I could do anything. Archer and Messenger, we’d share Gio between us. I picked his bottle from its holder clipped to the table. “I’ll decant for Gio a full-bodied draft. Unlike you I don’t care enough for it to leave a bitter aftertaste. I know that he won’t savor a lingering finish, because atropine will rapidly cause fever, a dry thirst balanced with the aroma of delirium, a sparkling racing pulse, a blend of spicy burning sensations, confusion, convulsions, coma and death. That’s what I call a rich vintage.” I swirled the bottle and took a long pull.

“You are a sick man, Jant Shira.”

Mist shrugged. “So we are decided. We approach tomorrow night at this time. Petrel will stay out of sight and I’ll row you two to the harbor. I’ll wait at the end of the quay. Petrel is safe under Viridian’s command. I will arrange for her to bring the ship in to retrieve us two hours before dawn. Our hundred sailors and our hundred and fifty fyrd led by Serein will be ready on board if we need them. Lightning, what arms do you advise?”

The Archer pondered. “Crossbows are better than longbows for fighting in a town, much as I don’t like them. I don’t want to cause casualties among the Capharnai, and you can take crossbows anywhere, even down tunnels.”

“Good. When Gio’s body is discovered, the Senate will have little choice but to talk with us.”

“I hope it works.” Lightning sighed. “Goodnight, coconspirators.”

I was about to follow him out of the cabin when the ship slewed. Canvas flapped wildly as the wind changed direction, whistling around the mainmast. Ata shoved past me, stuck her head out of the door and yelled, “Bring her about! She luffs, you lazy sods! Are you asleep in there? Make use of this wind!”

Cinna’s envelope lay forgotten on the table. My mouth dried up. I never have enough cat, I always want more. I couldn’t stop myself. I sneaked the envelope inside my coat and slipped out past Ata. “’Bye, Jant…” she muttered. “Faster, Petrel. Faster, my love. Gio has nowhere left to flee.”

Ilet Mist and Lightning descend the rope ladder first into the tiny rowing boat. It needed testing. I waited till they were settled before climbing down and gingerly feeling with my feet for the planks. The boat bucked. It was ready to roll right over, giving me no chance to fly off. I shuffled as quickly as possible to the middle of the bench-plank at the stern. Ata hefted her oars into the rowlocks.

I advised her, “Sit still. You’re rocking it!”

“Move your legs,” she said. “You’re in the way.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’ll climb over, then.”

“No!” I did not like being so near the water. My feet were actually under the level of the scooping waves, which was obviously wrong and shouldn’t be allowed. Ata pulled the oars and the dangerous vessel leapt prow to stern. I concentrated on the floor.

“Are you all right?” Lightning asked.

“Of course. But this craft is clearly unstable. A single wave could swamp it.”

“He hates them,” Ata said.

“I’m just being careful.”

She dipped oars, pulled on, leaned from side to side and the boat swayed alarmingly. “You’re tipping it deliberately!”

Ata said dryly, “As if I would. She’s hugely overloaded anyway.”

“Stop fooling about. It’s not funny.” The rowing boat was completely different from the high-sided caravels to which I had become reconciled. They were designed not to turn turtle but this boat wallowed as Ata rowed. I felt the weight of my two centuries ever more clearly as I searched the extremely close water for Tarragon’s fin, but all the wavelets looked like fins. “Why can’t I just fly there?”

“Act your age. Now the storm has died down, the rebels will hear your wing beats,” Ata breathed between strokes.

“I’ll glide.”

“And see your silhouette…Oh, in San’s name!” she exclaimed in terror.

“What?”

“Jant, I forgot the rope. Can you help me? Lend a hand!” She passed me the end of a cable that ran over the side into the water and had been catching on the waves. “Pull on this line. It’s vital! The way she’s built, the planks aren’t safe unless you keep it taut.”

“Really?”

“Yes-if you let it slack for a minute she’ll split into more segments than an orange!”

“I knew this was a death trap! How can you go to sea in a flimsy half-built boat? Shit!” I snatched up the damp rope and hauled on it until drops pinged off.

Ata nodded. “Good. Now keep it tight or we’ll all be in the drink.” Water ran from the blades as she feathered the oars. Stormy Petrel’s copper-clad hulk was a vague black shape in the distance. Lights on the three levels of decks were snuffed by the crew, and she vanished.

Lightning talked to the Sailor quietly. “Eszai are not supposed to sneak around like this. Gio’s forcing us to be murderers. I wish I was at the Front fighting Insects.” He had refused to blacken his sword blade even though I offered to do it for him. His concession to stealth had been to remove his signet ring and wrap a black mantle over his dark blue shirt. He held one arm around his new recurve longbow as if it was a lover.

“When the job’s done return directly to the quay,” said Ata.

“I’m concerned about Cyan. I hope none of this dishonor rubs off on her.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I find that daughters look after themselves.”

“And we have no backup plot,” he said. “None of us knows enough to predict the Capharnai.”

“We have our talents. Gio must be frightened of you, Archer. When his followers show their true colors, his lies will become manifest. The Senate will realize we’re doing the best for Tris.”

Lightning and Ata fell silent as we came up to the beacon. Its uneven light did not illuminate the whole wide harbor mouth-the farthest point of the marina wall was in shadow. Ata rowed close to it, as quietly as possible. Slimy basalt blocks dwarfed us; thick kelp fronds stirred deep beneath us. I had been straining at the rope for thirty minutes, preoccupied with images of drowning, but I saw the rafts of empty Trisian canoes tied to their floating pontoons, undulating on the waves. In the distance they looked like needles on pine branches. Pavonine, Cuculine and Stramash were monstrous in comparison. At the waterfront, their unembellished sterns faced us, sails furled on skeletal spars, no flags flying. Lights flickered on Pavonine’s living deck. Their three tall masts, thinned by the darkness, were only occasionally visible against the night sky. Still, I sensed their bulk and heard the wavelets that slipped in and splashed back between the carracks and the harbor wall. They were rising on their moorings on an incoming tide.

Behind the harbor, Capharnaum’s streets interlaced up the dark mountainside. Tris seemed far from fragile but, now we had touched it, it was starting to destruct. What if across the immense sea is an even stronger Empire, more pervasive still, that will do the same to us? San would be furious if he knew that thought. God has not left anything other than us on this world and, since it nominated San to protect the world, San and his orders are right. I will one day announce contests for Capharnai to join the Circle. I will fly over the town carrying their pennant, letting it stream out behind me, and Ata will ride her white horse up the boulevard. Trisian travelers would eventually visit the Fourlands; I could hardly wait to show them the sights.